The Black Tide (Outcast 3)

Jonas nodded. “Just be careful, and remember what I said. Fontaine is first and foremost a government man, so don’t give him any reason to suspect you.”

“He’s also a man in lust, and that often leads to a certain amount of blindness.”

Jonas snorted softly. “That is a blanket statement and does not apply to us all.”

“My experience suggests otherwise.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He simply pressed a hand against my spine and guided me out onto the platform. “I’ll leave you here and head into the park. I don't want to be seen heading directly into the bunker, just in case it’s still being watched.”

I nodded. “Cat and Bear can keep you company.”

“Oh good,” he said, voice dry.

Is he being sarcastic? Cat asked. Because it sounds like he is.

Maybe just a little, I said. Take care of him for me, and let me know if there’s a problem.

Will do, they said together.

I glanced at Jonas. “Don’t let the vampires bite, Ranger.”

He grinned. “Oh, they’re quite welcome to try. I have a few new guns that need testing out.”

I hesitated, tempted to step closer and kiss him goodbye. But that could lead to a whole lot more, and it was neither the time nor the place for such explorations. So I simply spun around and walked away—aware the whole time that he watched me.

Central City had two main defenses—the vast metal curtain wall that ran in a D-shape around the entire city, and the UV light towers that topped both the wall and every roof of every building within the city, providing its inhabitants with endless daylight. There were also only two ways to get in and out of the city—via the vast gatehouse here, and a matching gateway on the opposite side.

I was soon striding across the metal drawbridge that would be drawn up once the final string of pods arrived at the station. By the time full night arrived, the city would be locked down and no one would be able to enter or exit before the sun had fully risen again. The city might be bathed in eternal brightness, but if the lights failed, then the wall and the drawbridges were the city’s only protection against the might of the vampires. Which, in reality, didn’t mean much. Not when vampires could shadow and simply rise above the wall. It did, however, stop the Others, which meant that if the lights ever did go out, then at least there was one less horror to worry about.

The ends of the silver curtain that Central used in place of the more conventional portcullis gleamed brightly in the deepening gold of dusk, but the sensors fitted into the thick metal walls didn't react to my presence, though they would have had I been full vampire. It had taken ten years to completely rebuild Central after the war, and by then not only had all the HDP bases been destroyed, so had the entirety of the déchet population—aside from myself and Sal, as far as I was aware. As a result, they’d never built the possibility of DNA-mixed beings such as the déchet into their security systems, and I was extremely grateful for that. Feeding myself would have been far more problematic had I not been able to make regular raids into Central.

Central's internal layout consisted of a dozen roads; the outer roads were D-shaped like the wall itself, but the inner ones were full circles. Victory Street—the only street that ran from gatehouse to gatehouse through the heart of the city—intersected each of these roads, which also acted as delineation between the twelve districts within Central. Those near the wall were the poorer sections; the closer you got to Central's heart—where the main business district and government centers were situated, as well as the only green space available within the city—the more exclusive and richer the community.

I followed Victory Street—which was a spacious avenue that, despite the tall buildings lining either side of it, was still wide enough to allow real sunshine to bathe the street rather than just the UV light—until I came to one of the many pedestrian cross streets that ran between each of the main streets. They were little more than three-meter-wide canyons between the high-rise buildings, but like everything else in this city, they were bathed in eternal light. This one was empty, so I quickly drew a shield around my body and did a subtle shape shift, changing back to my natural silvery-white hair color but without the black stripes, and increasing both my height and breast size. The latter stretched the soft wool of the dress to its limits and probably revealed more than was decorous given I wasn’t wearing either a bra or the clear under-breast shape-tapes—which were not only more co

mfortable than old-fashioned bras, but far more supportive without in any way restricting movement. But I doubted there’d be many men who’d actually complain about what might be on show. I knew Charles certainly wouldn’t.

With the alterations made, I continued toward the apartment on Third Street that Nuri had procured for me as part of my Catherine—or Cat—persona. While apartments closer to the park were more prized—and therefore more expensive—even an apartment as close to the wall and drawbridge as this one was worth more than most of those living on Twelfth could ever hope to earn in their lifetime.

The building came into view. It was twenty floors high, but was sandwiched between two buildings and had little width. I ran my RFID chip across the scanner; after a moment, a green light flashed and the door opened.

The foyer beyond, like the building itself, was tiny but it was plushly decorated in gold and plum tones. I walked across to the elevator and, as I entered, a metallic voice asked for my floor number.

“Seven, please.”

The doors closed and the elevator zoomed me up to my destination. I stepped out into the carpeted corridor. There were only two apartments here—one at the front of the building, and one at the back—which I guess wasn’t surprising given the width of the place. The one I was using lay at the front.

I repeated the entry process and, when the door slid open, walked inside. The room beyond was a combination living and kitchen area. Despite the narrowness of the building, the entire place was bright and spacious—a feeling undoubtedly helped by the mezzanine level stopping well short of the double-height windows, which enabled light to flood the room. The entire space was white—a color that seemed to be favored amongst Central’s elite—but there were some splashes of bright color in both the cushions that lined the L-shaped sofa and the sunset pictures that lined the wall.

I walked across to the circular chrome-and-glass stair tucked into the corner on my right and went up. There were two small bedrooms on the mezzanine level, as well as a small bathroom that somehow managed to fit a shower, basin, toilet, and a hipbath, the latter definitely a luxury only the elite could afford. I quickly stripped off and stepped under the spray, letting the water roll over my body to ease the lingering spots of soreness. The needle-fine jets were so hot the room would have steamed up if not for the efficient exhaust system that vented it up to the rooftop.

By the time I’d finished, dusk had given way to night, though that was something I knew thanks to my vampire genes. The quality of light streaming in through the windows certainly hadn’t altered any.

The doorbell rang as I padded naked toward my bedroom. I paused, head tilted to one side as I listened. I couldn’t hear any sound to suggest who it was, so I walked across to the nearby comm screen and pressed a button. Charles's countenance appeared, and his expression was an odd mix of frustration and annoyance.

I pressed the audio button and said, “Who is it?”

“Charles.” His voice held a slight edge. “I’m sorry to call on you unexpectedly, but you weren’t answering my messages and I was worried.”